Disclaimer: Don't own One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest

Fix it

The clock seconds slip away slowly as I sit in the doctor's office. His voice just barely reaches my ears, drowned out by the loud ticks and tocks.

"Charlie?" I hear my name, barely a whisper from his lips. I switch my eyes from the slow moving hands on the clock to the doctor's face and the clock's music grows softer. He thumbs through the file in his hands before closing it with a light fwap. "You don't seem to be as responsive as I had hoped you would be. We'll hold off our interview until later."

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. The delicate points of the clock's fingers capture my attention again. I raise a finger and point at the clock's face, which is staring straight back at me. "The clock…it's not smiling…" I whisper under the noise. "Do you hear what the clock is telling us? Do you, doc?"

"Ah…yes," he smiles. "I can hear it perfectly." The doctor's face morphs for a split second before he fixes his collar until it's straight and stiff. "Well, I think it's time for you to rejoin the other patients, right?"

I know well enough that the doctor can't hear what the clock is saying. No one does. They never take the time to listen to what it has to say, even if it's yelling and screaming, telling us to do this that and the other. When I close my eyes, the clock's moan grows louder and lulls me to sleep. It's all a dream. I tell myself just before my eyes open again and I face the reality of things: there will be no warm coffee from my mother and I won't be able to go back to work until my new mother fixes me up.

At one o'clock, one minute, and fifty seconds, I'm wheeled to a new room where there are tables and chairs set up all around like homeless, uncared for men around a fire except there's no cozy warmth coming from the middle of it all. Instead, there's nothing but empty space. My new mother doesn't have many warm places inside her.

"Now then, let's begin this meeting," a woman I know as my new grandmother, Nurse Ratched, announces. She places a watch in a basket over a stack of crisp, clean manila folders. My eyes look at the strap of the watch dangle from the edge of the basket. Grandmother takes out a book and opens it to a page where one of the colored tabs sticks out of the otherwise straight and thick book. Her fingers, as sharp as the clock's, run down along the paper. My eyelids feel heavy. The clock's talking can be really boring.

A big man with red curls on his chin and a cap covering most of his head is in front of me. He's trying to overpower the clock's voice with his own, but it's no use. I stare at the furrowed, ginger caterpillars on his face then glance at the people behind him. Their hands are in the air, and the clock's yelling distracts me from the big man's voice. I blink, and the man is gone and only a few hands remain in the air. It's just a dream. It's all just a dream. There is no big, red man. He's fake and nonexistent. The clock brings me back to the meeting and an Indian man has a hand in the air pointed at twelve o'clock. What's he doing? Why was everyone raising their hands? I look towards the watchstrap for the answer, but it's silent. When I glance up at my new grandmother, she's silent as well. For the first time in thirty years, everything is silent.

Three minutes and fifty-two seconds later, I'm taken to the day room. The music that grandmother put on is very loud and gives me a headache. But, the clocks quickly change that and they start to fight for control over the music. Now, I only hear the clocks' constant chattering with each other. They echo from across the room like when someone goes to the edge of a cave and shouts into it, only to hear their own voice as the answer.

I have no one to talk with and no one to see for the next four hours fifty-eight minutes and fifty-four seconds. So, I quietly listen to what the clocks are saying. Don't fall under the illusion. There is no big man. There is only the mother and the grandmother. The clocks start to lower their voices as they always do when I want to ask them something other than what time it is. Before I know it, the horrible music is drowned out by the frustrated growls of an angry lioness. I want to see what would make her so mad, but the clocks put up a barrier of hands, telling me to stay back, and I did. But, through a small gap between heads, I saw red cotton creeping out from under a white fence.

My face soured, twisting into knots. "You clocks…" I muttered, "Are you lying to me? The big man is right there…And Grandmother…Is he making Grandmother angry? That's not good…That big man…if he makes Grandmother angry how's she supposed to tell Mother to fix me up good so I can work again?" Without even realizing it, black gears started to churn and dark ideas crossed the hidden depths of my mind. I will make Grandmother happy so she can make me better. I will take out anyone who gets in Grandmother's way. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

The clock announces to the ward: eight hours, twenty-nine minutes, and fifty-six seconds. Unlike the outside, Mother is always bright despite the cold feelings she harbors on the inside. So, even in the darkest of nights, I know that Mother will always protect me with her light because Grandmother ensures this.

Right now, I'm waiting in line listening to the beautiful monotonous sounds of the clocks as I slowly make my way up to a counter where one of Grandmother's workers are distributing cups of pills in different colors, shapes and sizes. When I get my cup, I stare down at the contents before putting them in my mouth and swallowing them. By doing this, I'll get on Grandmother's good side.

Behind me, I hear a noise resembling the cackling of a wild hyena. I turn around abruptly to see that troll—that one bad seed—being all touchy-friendly with the others and give him the most bitter stare I can. My hard glare must have made him feel uncomfortable because now he's approaching me.

"You're a new face, did you just come in today?" he smiles at me like we've known each other for years. While he may have all the others fooled, I won't fall for his deceptive face because I know that under his sugar-coated exterior lies an evil of the worst kind. He lets out a loud noise, shaking his head. "Where are my manners?" Then, he extends a hand. "My name is McMurphy. And you?"

"Charlie…" I answer slowly as I place my palm against his.

"So, why are you in this here establishment?"

His curiosity is going to be his downfall. "I need to be fixed," I answered before moving my attention to the clock. Remove the obstacle. Destroy all in your path. "I know! I know!" I mutter to the clock.

"Excuse me?" McFurry asks. A shiver runs down my spine and I start walking away, annoyed.

"Nothing…" my teeth grind against each other. "Nothing at all…"

Wake up. It's now six hours, twenty-six minutes, and fifty-eight seconds into the new day. When my eyes open, I see some empty beds from my place strapped underneath a layer of stiff cotton. All I can here are soft echoes of the clock and the cogs in my mind spinning ideas out just as fast as when I fixed things before coming to Mother. Inside my head, the layout has already been formulated and all that was left was to put the pieces in place and set it in motion.

Three minutes and fifty-nine seconds pass before some kids finally take off the glass. I make a disguised rush to the shower room. Luckily, only the 'problem' was there. "Good morning, McMurphy," I exclaimed from the doorway.

He turned my way, "Hello, Charlie. You're here pretty early yourself."

The clocks started ticking like madmen pounding in my ears. But, I had to keep a cool exterior. Once in a while, I'd glance at a mirror to make sure my lips weren't turning up into a smile. "Well, I wanted to shower early. My old mother always wanted me to eat breakfast with dry hair. I'm pretty sure my new mother would expect the same of me." Tick-Tick-Tick-Tick.

He gave me a strange look. "A mother? At your age? You must be younger than you look! I thought you were at least in your late thirties."

Do it now. Now's your chance. Enough with the small talk. Do it. "Shut up! I know!" I hissed.

"Okay, I didn't mean to offend," he let out a chuckle. At the sound of his annoying laughter that squeaked like a screw in need of oil, I pounced at him, pushing his back into a shower faucet. He let out a gasp before pushing me onto the tiles. "Whoa! What are you doing, Charlie?" he exclaimed, showing off his dinner plate eyes.

There's a loud noise echoing from the doorway, rubber on rubber. "Nurse Ratched! Nurse Ratched!"

One o'clock, zero minutes, and zero seconds: I'm surrounded by white snow in a room with equally pale strangers. Grandmother sent me to this land of disturbed. There's no clock anywhere in sight, but I can still hear the faint pulses of a clock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

This was originally an English assignment, so that's why it's kind of short. It would've been longer if my teacher would've let me make more pages, but alas...

Thanks for reading! ^^